


Greg's surprise for Mycroft, aka The Tramp Stamp

by brooklyn09



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crack, Eventual Smut, Fluff, M/M, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 09:55:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13499568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brooklyn09/pseuds/brooklyn09
Summary: Greg gets a tattoo. It has the desired effect.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr, the result of musings in the Mystrade fandom on strategically placed tattoos. Meant purely for fun. Picture of 'tramp stamp' referenced in the story on my Tumblr blog, @lilynevin.

Mycroft was in the kitchen when he heard the front door close. He put his glass down and moved to the foyer. Greg was leaning down ever so gingerly, dropping his bag on the floor and his keys on the table. Mycroft watched him from the sitting room doorway. He had called Greg this afternoon at New Scotland Yard, and was surprised when DS Donovan answered his phone and told him that Greg had left just before lunch for some "appointment". She said he was being evasive and cagey when she pressed him on it, but seemed more embarrassed than upset. As it was Friday, Greg had told her to have a nice weekend, and he'd see her Monday. Mycroft then called Greg's cell but it went straight to voicemail. He didn't bother leaving a message. Greg would see his number on the caller ID and would call him back if he could.

Mycroft cleared his throat to make his presence known and Greg straightened up with a start, grabbing his lower back. Mycroft immediately became concerned.

"Gregory, are you hurt?"

"Oh, Mycroft, you startled me! No, no, not hurt, just a little sore."

"Sore? Whatever for? Did you strain your back? Do you need to see a doctor? Do you want me to call Dr. Watson?"

"Christ, no! Not John!" exclaimed Greg. If John found out, he would tell Sherlock and the teasing would be merciless. Sherlock took every opportunity he could to needle he and Mycroft about their relationship. And most of the time witnessing Sherlock's distress and embarrassment was amusing. But this was an entirely different matter.

"I saw you called me earlier. I was, uh, a little predisposed at the time."

"Predisposed?", queried Mycroft, raising an eyebrow in an unspoken prompt to continue.

"Yeah, I wanted it to be a surprise. But it hurts so freakin' much, what I really need is some of your tender loving care", said Greg, chuckling, albeit with tears in his eyes. 

Mycroft took him by the hand and led him into the study. Greg asked him to shut the the blinds, and Greg began undoing his pants. When the blinds had been drawn, Mycroft turned around and found Greg bent over his desk, hands braced on the surface, supporting his weight. His pants were gathered on the floor around his ankles. Mycroft gasped at the image presented to him. On Greg's lower back, right above his buttocks, in decorative black lettering, was the phrase "fuck me gorgeous." Around the words the skin was red and irritated. 

Mycroft moved over to Greg, gently ghosting his fingers over the area. Greg hissed and inhaled sharply. "Oh love, what did you do?"

To be continued....


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the kudos and comments here and on Tumblr! This was a lot of fun to write! Now, the conclusion.....

Greg had taken the afternoon off to put his surprise for Mycroft in motion. He got a recommendation from a coworker on a reputable tattoo artist. He then made an appointment to get his new ink. He had never gotten a tattoo before, he never really had the interest. But he and Mycroft had progressed in their sexual relationship, and Greg wanted to do something risque and unexpected. Something that would blow Mycroft's wad, along with his mind. He was a little embarrassed showing the tattoo artist what he had in mind, but the guy didn't bat an eye. Although Greg imagined he had probably gotten lots of odd requests. 

So now, here in the present, he was showing Mycroft the evidence of his folly. Mycroft was standing behind him, lightly tracing the words with his fingers. The fingers felt cool on his overheated skin. Greg shivered and felt a stirring in his groin.

"I must say, Gregory. This is.....unexpected." 

"Do you not like it?" asked Greg.

"No, I didn't say that" said Mycroft, continuing to lazily brush Greg's skin. "Does it hurt?"

"Not really. Just a little sensitive." 

"Do you want me to stop touching you?"

Greg began squirming under Mycroft's hypnotizing stroking. "No, as long as you mean to finish what you start."

"Oh, I have every intention of making sure your gift to me is truly rewarded." 

Mycroft slowly pushed Greg forward so he was laying face down over the desk. He shucked up Greg's shirt, getting it out of the way, and removed his pants from around his ankles. Mycroft undid his own belt and unbuttoned his fly, letting his trousers fall to the floor. He took himself in hand, gently stroking himself from root to tip. 

Greg reached one hand over his head to grasp at the edge of the desk, while his other hand found his own erection. He began slowly stimulating his own arousal. He felt Mycroft's cum moistened fingers gently probing his hole, gently manipulating him. When he was sufficiently stretched, he felt the head of Mycroft's penis slowly and sweetly entering him. The feeling was exquisite. He would never tire of this. Mycroft leaned over Greg, touching his chest to Greg's back. Greg could feel the fine texture of Mycroft's suit brushing against his over-sensitized skin. They just laid like that, Mycroft ensconced in Greg's tight heat, and Greg feeling fuller than he ever thought possible. Greg began to wiggle his buttocks to get Mycroft to start moving. 

Mycroft pushed himself off of Greg's back, bracing his arms on the desk on either side of Greg's shoulders. He began slowly rocking in and out of Greg, lubricating his tight hole. Mycroft looked down at Greg's tattoo. *fuck me gorgeous*. Mycroft continued pounding in and out, watching Greg move his own hand more rapidly underneath him. "I'm close" he heard his lover gasp. Mycroft grabbed Greg's hips, pressing his thumbs into the edges of the tatoo. That extra pressure on the sensitive spot was all Greg needed to shoot his load all over his hand and paint the front of Mycroft's desk. Mycroft followed shortly after thrusting out his final release. He collapsed in a heap over Greg's back. They were both breathing heavily from the exertion. 

After regaining some manner of coherence, Mycroft lifted himself carefully off his lover's back and carefully pulled out. Greg was still splayed over the desk, looking totally wrecked, the tattoo a vivid reminder of the debauchery that had just occurred. Greg eased himself up and rolled over to sit bare assed on the desk's edge. 

"Wow. That was something, eh?" smirked Greg.

"Indeed it was" smiled Mycroft. "Do you have any more intriguing ideas in that sordid little mind of yours?"

"Not at the moment. I think we can still get some more mileage out of this one. Ready for round two?"

"I think I can be persuaded. Although how about we take this upstairs to the bedroom? The bed is definitely more forgiving than this desk to our aging bodies."

"Speak for yourself old man!" laughed Greg as he gathered his lover into a warm embrace. Mycroft hugged him back, reverently covering Greg's tramp stamp with his loving hands.


End file.
